


of feathers and firelight

by jangjoos



Category: Golden Child (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M, Slow Burn, Weird Plot Shit, ill add stuff as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13734297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jangjoos/pseuds/jangjoos
Summary: What use was that? What difference would a bit of comfort make? There was an army, a dark, faceless army surrounding his city from all sides, moving to attack his people. Jaehyun’s visions, his grim visions of death and destruction- they were all coming to fruition.





	1. jaehyun

“The Capital will fall. We must do something.”

 

Whenever Jaehyun said this, his advisors chuckled at him, his guards glanced at him in confusion, his attendants left the room. To them, this was a baseless claim, speculative panic seemingly rooted in no real evidence. His warnings grew more and more urgent as the days passed, throwing the palace into a panic, though not in the way he’d hoped. With the current Emperor on his deathbed, the last thing the people needed was a reason to suspect that the nation’s crown prince had gone insane.

 

Jaehyun didn’t think he was insane, but he’d definitely been creeping closer by the hour. Every night, visions of a burning city haunted him. He saw the palace, _his_ palace being stormed by a faceless army, winged monsters circling overhead, his people screaming as they were disintegrated into ash. He didn’t know when this would happen, or how, but he did know that this day was coming dangerously close. They were playing with fire, but nobody _listens._

 

“What if I told you I’m a Daemon?” He told his head advisor one day. In response to this, the old man had merely squinted at him, then promptly left the vicinity. Not long after that, Jaehyun found himself under house arrest on the orders of the Emperor himself.

 

“Your majesty, I think you need a bit of time alone,” a soldier said apologetically before ushering him into his room, locking the door.

 

It was a bit ridiculous, considering this door locked from the inside as well as out, but judging from the rattling of armor Jaehyun’s been hearing from outside the room, they’ve stationed guards at his door. Collapsing onto his bed with a loud, resigned groan, he closed his eyes and tried to look into the near future, searching for a way to get out.

 

* * *

 

The door creaked open for the first time in hours. A guard stepped into the room, doorknob clicking softly as he closed it again. Wearing a plain leather tunic in lieu of armor, with two swords hanging from his waist, he was very young— a squire, probably no older than Jaehyun himself.

 

“You’re late,” Jaehyun deadpanned. He knew this soldier. Kim Jibeom had enlisted in the army a couple of years ago, hailing from the port city-state at the southeastern end of the empire. He was known for being unusually good at combat, winning every single duel and joust he was challenged to, although the same can’t be said for his drill performance.

 

“You knew I’d come,” his voice was tinged with a bit of awe as he spoke, but, curiously, no surprise. “It’s true, then— you’re a clairvoyant?”

 

“It’s pretty useless when everyone thinks you’re crazy." Jaehyun chuckled a bit. "Thanks for coming to rescue me. That is, if that’s what you were planning to do.”

 

Jibeom’s swords hit each other as he walked, like a pair of very oversized and deadly key, creating a loud jangling noise that accompanied his footsteps. He pulled out the chair in front of Jaehyun’s desk and casually sat himself down across from him, ostensibly ignoring the fact that this was the crown prince’s bedroom.

 

“Right. I’m getting you out of here. Please understand, it’s really hard to get a solo shift.” Jibeom explained, attempting to swing one leg over another before quickly retracting it as a result of accidentally hitting a bookshelf. “We know how clever you are, we’re kinda employing maximum security on you right now.”

 

“I’m honored,” Jaehyun replied drily. Then, curiosity flickered across his face. “So you believed my visions? Why?”

 

The ends of Jibeom’s lips curved into a mysterious smile, dimpling his left cheek. He stood up and unstrapped one of the swords from his waist, holding it in front of Jaehyun as an offering.

 

“Let’s just say you aren’t the only Daemon in the palace. Now, the first in line to the throne can handle a bit of swordplay, right?”

 

* * *

 

Jaehyun smashed the hilt of a sword against the guard’s helmet. The poor man promptly fell to his knees as a result, the _clang_ of his armor resonating across the room _._ He looked over to see that Jibeom had also reduced the other guy to a slumping pile of metal on the ground, successfully incapacitating him before any sort of alarm could be raised. Adjusting the cowl Jibeom had given him to protect his identity, Jaehyun signaled for them to press onwards.

 

Growing up, the palace never felt particularly big, often the contrary- but sneaking through maze-like corridors, trying to hide in open ballrooms made the darned place feel sprawling and massive.

 

When they reached a place where the hallway split into two, he motioned for them to stop.

 

“We gotta go left,” Jibeom hissed urgently. “That's where I told them not to go.”

 

Jaehyun shook his head, closing his eyes. “I'm reading that timeline right now. It...doesn't end well.”

 

There were four soldiers guarding that hallway, waiting for Jaehyun and Jibeom to bump into them. From there, the timeline split into two, one where they are immediately apprehended, another where they win after a long and laborious fight— however, they do not manage to run from the soldiers’ reinforcements.

 

Jibeom spun his sword around and slid it back into its scabbard. “No wait, you're right. I can feel...anxiety and worry coming from there. I think they found out you're gone. We have to hurry.”

 

“Wait, is that your power? You can sense emotions?” Jaehyun asked, putting away his own sword.

 

Jibeom paused. “Kind of, but it's more like...telepathy. Mind reading. We'll talk later, they're getting closer.”

 

A new timeline opened up, one where Jaehyun refuses to listen and demands to know if his mind has been open to him this entire time. They end up getting cornered by the quartet of soldiers approaching from the left corridor, Jibeom being sent to the dungeons for treason and Jaehyun thrown back into his room. Needless to say, this wasn’t a timeline that he particularly wanted to follow.

 

He pulled himself back to the present, blinking like a newly hatched chick.

 

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Jaehyun’s horse, Bongji, sported a glistening white coat that seemed to reflect the light of the dying sun back to the heavens. It was once said that she had the best genes in the empire, perhaps even the continent. There was a slight jump in her steps as she trotted gracefully along the road, hooves clicking against the cobblestone path.

 

He’d been to the slums of the Capital only a few times in his life, the most recent in which he was accompanied by a small force of scouts, having been tasked with investigating a murder in the southern district of the city. Back then, he was out to conduct official business, so everyone knew who he was. Jaehyun remembered how many people would open their doors and windows to gawk at him, children would stop playing and conversations would fall die down as his entourage walked by. Now, it was different. For all these people knew and cared, he was a commoner, just like them.

 

Jibeom’s horse whinnied quietly, gently cantering in an effort to catch up. Sunset in the city was dark, but it was still relatively easy to make out his silhouette as he rode.  

 

“So, tell me,” Jaehyun drawled, making sure to draw out each word. It was an interrogation technique he had learned from his advisors, one they used on him whenever he stole something from the palace.

 

The palace, a place where he’d spent most of his life trapped inside, grew smaller and smaller as they rode further away.

 

“You can see my thoughts. You’ve been reading my mind.”

 

To this, Jibeom sighed.

 

“Yeah. I suppose I should have told you earlier. I believed you because I saw the visions in your head. It’s...hard to discredit that.” He muttered, voice barely heard amidst the night breeze and the sound of their horses’ trotting.

 

“Can you read them right now?” Jaehyun asked, fiddling with Bongji’s bridle.

 

Jibeom bit his lip, thinking for a moment, and shook his head. “No. The general rule is feelings from close proximity, thoughts from eye contact, memories from physical contact.”

 

With that, Jaehyun looked away from him, casting his eyes downwards and forcing himself to face the road. He suddenly felt vulnerable, remembering all the moments Jibeom caught his eye after a duel, moments where Jibeom watched him carefully as he strolled along the palace. It made sense, now, how he always seemed to know where his opponent would strike next, how he often watched others with a piercing, knowing gaze.

 

After hours of riding in relative silence, the buildings of the inner city slowly began to thin out. Wood and marble gradually disappeared to make way for trees, grass, and acres of farmland; dusk slowly faded into night, and the familiar cobblestone path was eventually replaced by harsh gravel. While the palace was no more than a speck in the distance, they were still barely out of the city. Jaehyun always knew that the Capital was massive, but it really never registered in his mind just how huge it was before being put into perspective like this.

 

A few more hours passed, sky darkening even more until the moon rose to center of the sky. Jibeom’s horse whinnied a complaint as he suddenly halted it, to which Jaehyun followed suit. Jibeom pointed to a large tree in the distance, a ways apart but only slightly off the path.

 

“I think that’s a good place to set up camp,” he suggested. “Gryphons and imps don’t wander this close to large cities.”

 

Jaehyun squinted at him. “So we’re just gonna sleep on the ground?”

 

Jibeom jumped off his horse and looked up at him, some strange and confused expression wrinkling his face.

 

“Well, I mean, what did you expect?” He asked, reaching out to help Jaehyun dismount Bongji. “Everyone in the Capital knows what you look like, and next town is several hours away from here.”

 

Jaehyun rejected Jibeom’s hand, instead opting to gracelessly scramble off his horse by himself. He didn’t want to risk exposing his memories to a telepath—besides, when a clairvoyant touched someone, they briefly got visions related to that person. He didn’t want to deal with visions right now.

 

“Well, I guess. It’s just…” Jaehyun stuttered, gesturing at his torso. “This is a really nice tunic. I’d hate to ruin it.”

 

Jibeom didn’t deign that with a reply, huffing and muttering a phrase that sounded something like “spoiled princess.”

 

They tied their horses to the nearby tree and started a fire with pieces of flint. Then, Jaehyun sat down and stared at the crackling flames, focusing, searching- close enough to feel its roaring heat, but just out of the reach of its wayward sparks. He hardly noticed Jibeom sitting down next to him, not quite meeting his eyes but still watching him with a fixed sort of curiosity.

 

“What do you think’s gonna invade the Capital? What should we do next?” Jibeom asked, snapping him out of his daze.

 

Jaehyun leaned back and groaned in frustration. “Maybe if you let me focus, Kim Jibeom, I could find out.”

 

“Sorry,” Jibeom said with a sheepish grin. He didn’t sound the least bit apologetic.

 

With that, Jaehyun took out his sword, the sound of sliding metal almost inaudible over bursting sparks. The surface of the steel reflected back the tongues of flame before it, causing the sword to emit a soft but infernal glow.

 

He suddenly paused, realizing that he’d left Jibeom’s questions unanswered.

 

“It’s a Daemon. That’s one thing I’m sure about. This threat...It’s more powerful than any Daemon that we’ve seen before.” Jaehyun explained, turning the sword so that it reflected a hint of his own wide eyes and dark hair. “I don’t know if we can fight them, even if we had an army of eleven thousand men.”

 

Jibeom opened his mouth, presumably to ask another question, but his voice was drowned out mid-sentence by a curious ringing noise. Something bright crept into the edges of Jaehyun’s vision, and the stars seemed to expand to fill the night. He knew this feeling, familiar to him like an old glove, an experience that nigh drove him insane every time it began.

 

The first thing Jaehyun noticed was that, unlike the visions that had haunted him this entire week, this one didn’t allude to death and destruction. He saw a minstrel with golden hair, a boy's body twisting grotesquely into the form of a giant bird. He saw a quaint seaside house, a merchant’s cart abandoned on a roadside. A mountain crushed by an unseeable force, a vase floating in the air before abruptly smashing into the ground. He saw a group of Daemons holding back an army of monsters.

 

But, most importantly, for the first time in what had seemed like eternity, Jaehyun saw hope _._

 

* * *

 

 

A distant screech woke Jaehyun up from his vision-induced slumber. He sat up and blearily opened his eyes, only to see three giant birdlike creatures circling over them in the sky, silhouetted and dark against the morning sun. Jibeom was already standing up, hand on his sword and knees bent in anticipation for combat.

 

“Gryphons...I thought they didn’t come this close to cities.” Jaehyun hissed, pulling himself to his feet.

 

Jibeom shook his head, stepping back with eyes trained on the monsters. “They don’t. These are...I don’t know what’s wrong with them. They don’t usually attack without provocation, either.”

 

The gryphons screeched again, this time in rapid succession. Suddenly, one of them dove at the ground, claws outstretched and aiming straight for Jibeom’s head. Luckily, Jibeom ducked and rolled out of the way just in time, breathing heavily as he scrambled back on two feet.

 

The other two gryphons circled closer to the earth. Jaehyun crept up beside the first one, which was shaking its head and recovering after dive-bombing into the ground. He carefully took out his sword, ducking to the side as he foresaw it swishing its mighty tail to his side. It crumpled to the ground after he hit a well-aimed strike at the back of its neck, after Jibeom rushed up to follow up with a killing blow into the creature’s stomach.

 

Jaehyun turned his attention to the second gryphon, which was threatening to attack at the horses tied to the tree. When it heard his footsteps, it pivoted towards him and gave an ear-piercing cry.

 

Just then, a timeline opened up.

 

“Jibeom! Watch out! To your left!” Jaehyun shouted, parrying a strike from lunging talons.

 

At the corner of his eye, blood splattered to the ground. Jibeom’s arm was gored by the gryphon’s sharp beak after he tried to dodge that attack. It was a bit of morbid relief- in the future he’d seen, its bill strikes Jibeom’s gut instead of his hand, causing him to die in three out of four branching timelines. The gryphon Jaehyun was fighting stretched out its wings, rearing up and letting out what sounded like a cry for help. It left him an opening, allowing him to slash at its exposed throat. The monster collapsed with a sickening screech.

 

The last gryphon fell after Jaehyun and Jibeom successfully tired it out by attacking from two sides. Three feathered bodies littered their camp as a result, although their horses were spooked by the ordeal.

 

Jaehyun nodded at the gaping wound on Jibeom’s arm, still fresh and bleeding but beginning to clot. “Those infect easily. We’ve gotta find a place to get it treated. Can you ride like that?”

 

“Y-Yeah. It should be fine. I’ll just wrap it with a piece of cloth for now-” Jibeom paused, realizing that such a task required two working hands.

 

“Could you maybe help me with that? I’ll try to stay out of your head.”

 

It was the first physical contact they've ever had with each other, Jaehyun noted. He’d be exposing his memories to Jibeom, who would, in turn, be exposing his future. As he helped Jibeom tie the spare cloth into a cast, visions flooded his head like a high tide on the coast.

 

Some of them were pretty typical. He was shown visions of Jibeom walking a path, sitting in an empty house. These were probably symbolic of something, but it wasn't so interesting, considering these visions occurred for literally everyone Jaehyun touched. Several more visions flashed by, all seemingly typical and nonsensical, there was one scene that stood out to him.

 

With Jibeom’s arm amply wrapped and immobilized, they saddled up for a day’s worth of riding. As they traveled, Jaehyun couldn’t help but wonder why he saw himself in Jibeom’s future.

 

* * *

 

There was a small, quaint town nestled amongst the mountains, situated between crossroads that lead to three different cities. Here, they handed a few coins to a gruff but kind innkeeper who lead them to a tiny room upstairs. The room was empty, save for a chest and two bedrolls.

 

Jaehyun frowned. “We’re at an inn and there still aren't actual beds to sleep on?”

 

“Not everyone can be as privileged as you, princess,” Jibeom laughed, struggling to take his doublet off, wincing as the fabric touched his wounded arm.

 

“I’m not really used to this,” Jaehyun mused, stepping closer to help Jibeom pull it over his head. “Also, don’t call me princess.”

 

“I guess you’d better. Our journey might be a long one.” Jibeom neatly folded the doublet and stuck it into the chest, only to abruptly flop down on his bedroll with a sigh of contentment. “By the way, any idea where we’re going?”

 

“Kind of. Actually,” Jaehyun blurted out, “you’re from an outer city, right?”

 

Jibeom blinked back at him, the candle’s soft glow highlighting the roundness of his face, the smoothness of his skin. “Mhm. The Port, to be specific. Why?”

 

“Have you ever heard of a minstrel with golden hair?”

 

“The Golden Minstrel? Yeah. He’s somewhat of a folk hero.”

 

Jaehyun pursed his lips a bit. “Do you know if he, well, exists?”

 

“Definitely.” Jibeom yawned, stretching his arms the best he could in such a limited space. “He’s shown up in town once, many years ago.”

 

“Really?”

 

He seemed to think about this for a moment, then sat up, resting an index finger on his bottom lip.

 

“I don’t remember it all that well. But...Sungyoon-hyung might.”

 

To this, Jaehyun stiffened. He’s heard of Choi Sungyoon- documented Daemons are rare and few to be found, and news of one always spread across the empire, if not further. Some were flashier than others- Sungyoon seemed to live a peaceful life, but nobody in the Capital could go a day without hearing news that Lee Jangjun scammed another poor nobleman of all his treasures, or that Kim Donghyun...well.

 

Jaehyun took a breath. “You see, the night before we fought the gryphons, I got these visions,” he began.

 

“There were a lot of them. It was confusing. But one thing was very clear. We have to find every Daemon in the empire, gather a force of them. If the threat we’re facing is a very powerful Daemon, we must fight fire with fire.”

 

Jibeom tipped his head to the side. “I see. Then we’ll go to my hometown next. Sungyoon’s one of the only Daemons who don't really move around a lot.” With that, he snuggled into the sheepskin layer of the bedroll.

 

“For now...It’s getting late. Goodnight, princess.”

 

He smiled at the crown prince, just as the candle’s dimming light was snuffed out by a passing breeze. When darkness settled, Jaehyun couldn’t help but grin back.

 

“Don’t call me princess.”

 

* * *

 

 

This town harbored a certain atmosphere within it, something warm and unique and familiar. There was a doctor that lived across from the inn who agreed to patch up Jibeom’s injury properly, and that allowed him to move his arm again.

 

On that note, Jaehyun and Jibeom readied up their horses once again, preparing for the more long days of travel that stretched ahead. Their first week on the road was spent trekking mountains by daylight, taking shelters in small caves by night. Occasionally, harpies and gryphons could be heard from a distance, but curiously, these creatures never bothered them. The journey was relatively easy, almost too easy— in no time at all, they reached the sign at a crossroads that marked the halfway point between Jibeom’s hometown and the Capital.  

 

“I’ve been getting those visions again,” Jaehyun said to him. The small fire they’ve started crackled hungrily at its wooden pedestal, giving the darkness of midnight a fiery glow, illuminating the markings on the faded road sign next to them.

 

Jibeom hummed softly. “Do you think that means we should hurry?”

 

Jaehyun tossed a piece of tinder into the flames, flinching a bit as the fire suddenly reared up. “At the very least, we should be up early tomorrow. I fear the worst.”

 

“No kidding. You’ve been giving out waves of anxiety since we left that clearing yesterday,” Jibeom teased with a snort. “I just assumed you were worried about getting your precious tunic dirty.”

 

“That was, and is still a legitimate concern,” retorted Jaehyun, cringing back in mock offense.

 

Jibeom laughed. “Whatever you say, princess.”

 

* * *

 

From the top of a dying tree, a raven croaked to grey skies overhead. Jaehyun opened his eyes to bleary dawn. Thick clouds blotted out the light of the morning sun. Jibeom was asleep, clinging to his travel pack and snoring loudly. Smoke still rose from the charred remains of the fire from the night before, blending in seamlessly with dusty clouds as it reaches the sky.

 

“Jibeom,” Jaehyun muttered, softly at first. The other boy stirred, but didn’t respond.

 

“Jibeom,” he tried again, a bit louder this time. At this altitude, he could see the faint outline of the Capital in the distance, sprawling over acres of countryside in all its colossal glory.

 

But, as well as he could see the city, Jaehyun spotted something that showed up much more clearly over the horizon. It was something he’d been fearing, something he’d been dreading for so long, witnessing it felt a little bit surreal.

 

Jibeom finally sat up, immediately casting sharp eyes over their view of the Capital.

 

“Jibeom,” Jaehyun gasped, one last time. “It’s happening- it’s happening, we’re too late, we _failed-”_   


 

In his panic, he felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder, a vain attempt to steady his ragged breathing.

 

What use was that? What difference would a bit of comfort make? There was an army, a dark, faceless army surrounding _his_ city from all sides, moving to attack _his_ people. Jaehyun’s visions, his grim visions of death and destruction- they were all coming to fruition. He felt himself let out a burst of cold, maniacal laughter, vaguely aware of Jibeom attempting to hold him closer.

 

“No, you don’t understand,” Jaehyun croaked, feeling himself struggle with every breath he took. “Jibeom, ravens with feathers dyed white- we send them- we only send them out upon the death of the Emperor-”

 

“It’s okay, it’ll be okay, relax, breathe,” Jibeom told him, but he felt a new wave of hysteria rise up to his throat.

 

“It’s our- it’s _my_ fault. By- by leaving, I opened up a power vacuum in the empire. Jibeom, that’s why they attacked— I gave them a chance, _they wouldn’t have done so otherwise-”_

 

“Jaehyun. Listen.”

 

Jaehyun reluctantly turned over to Jibeom, tears streaking his eyes, droplets rolling over his cheeks.

 

Jibeom hesitated for a moment, as if unsure how he should proceed. Then, he looked into his eyes. Jaehyun only barely registers the fact that his mind was likely being read, although an odd sense of trust rushes over him. Whether he was sure Jibeom would stay out of his mind, or that he trusted him with his thoughts, or maybe both- that part was unclear.

 

“Jaehyun, we haven’t failed. Don’t say that,” Jibeom said, brushing a tear off Jaehyun’s cheek. “Maybe it’s too late to stop them. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything.

 

Jaehyun took a deep, shuddering breath, then nodded. He tried to focus on Jibeom’s kind, determined eyes, tried to stop himself from looking over at the horizon. A giant bird circled the sky above them, and he idly hoped that the creature wasn’t hostile.

 

Jibeom continued, “it’s too late to turn back on our quest. We’ll keep going forward, find Sungyoon-hyung, find the golden minstrel, all the Daemons we can- we’ll defeat whatever’s marching on the city, take back our empire. We won’t lose hope.”

 

At this time, the giant bird that loomed overhead- the _roc,_ has flown away. Jaehyun felt himself go limp with relief. There was no way he could have fought something so large in this condition, nor did he wish for Jibeom to take it on by himself.

 

“Alright,” Jaehyun breathed. He shook himself off, then slung his travel pack over one shoulder. The city had gone ominously silent, though clouds gathered over it like a rising storm.

 

“We’ll keep going forward,” as he echoed Jibeom’s words, something warm expanded within his heart.

 

“We won’t lose hope.”


	2. various

At about seven hours from midnight, Jibeom opened his eyes with a yawn, blinking at the faint rays of sunlight that shone through cracks in the shutters.

 

After several long and laborious days on the road, they’d finally reached the edge of the sprawling coastal city-state that was his, Sungyoon, and Daeyeol’s home: the Port. Jaehyun was fast asleep on the bed they’d shared for the night, giving off a faint aura of contentment as he dreamt. Jibeom always thought it was a bit of a shame that people slept with their eyes closed. Dreams are strange, often telling very interesting stories- he’d always wanted to see what someone else’s dreams looked like, what people dreamed about, if dreams really did come true. Surely, the dreams of a clairvoyant would at least contain elements of premonition?

 

Because this inn was situated at the end of a larger city, it was considerably nicer than most other places they’d stayed at along the way. Jibeom sat up on the bed and scanned the room, still rather dim in the dreary early hours of the morning. He spotted his ragged leather doublet and Jaehyun’s fancy imperial tunic strewn unceremoniously across the floor, considering for just a moment before reaching for the latter. Like how a person’s clothing often smelled like them, Jaehyun’s possessions sometimes radiated hints of his buzzing mind, his mixed array of emotions.

 

The moment he left the inn and stepped into the morning sun, the Port really began to feel like home. From his childhood, he remembered the downtrodden road, the endless coastline in the distance, huts that looked like dollhouses from hillcrests. His hometown looked small, scattered around the edges; a star that let out rays of its own light, although the skyline rose to a crescendo as it approached the inner city. Jibeom followed the cobbled path, trudging ever closer to the heart of the town until the lively buzz of the marketplace began to permeate his mind. Along the way, he caught the eye of a hurried fisherman coming home to his wife after a long morning’s worth of toil.

 

As a child, Jibeom always liked to browse the stalls of the marketplace, even if his family could never afford any of the shiny trinkets or exotic luxuries being offered. Sometimes, Daeyeol would buy him pieces of jewelry he’d caught him staring at for a long time, which became little somethings he treasured forever. There was a pretty engraved ring he wore on his left index finger, forged in a distant empire and curiously damascened like a particularly special sword.

 

Just then, he felt a familiar presence creep up behind him.

 

“  _Kim Jibeom_!”

 

Mock exasperation, fondness, playfulness, a gradually fading hint of sadness- those were emotions he’d come to associate with a certain crown prince he knew. Jibeom turned around and found himself face-to-face with a stern looking Jaehyun, clad in the worn leather doublet he’d left at the inn. With a sheepish smile, he lifted his hand and waved.

 

“Morning, princess,” Jibeom greeted.

 

At that, Jaehyun raised an eyebrow and gestured at his attire, then pointed indignantly at his own. It helped that the two of them seemed to have around the same stature, so the tailored doublet seemed to fit him well, if not clinging a bit to his frame.

 

“You were right. This is a really nice tunic,” Jibeom said with an easy laugh, tugging at its ruffled collar

 

Jaehyun let out a long-suffering sigh. “Why do I deal with you.”

 

Jibeom shrugged, grinning back before turning his head and pointing at the tall cathedrals near the center of the city.

 

“We’re almost there. Daeyeol and Sungyoon live close to the palace, just over there,” he told him.

 

Curiously, Jibeom felt disappointment and childlike excitement seep into his mind as a response, a sense of wonder he often associated with youth. Jaehyun seemed to want to go sightseeing before they hurried along their quest, he noted, trying his best not to giggle at his thoughts. It was cute.

 

Speaking of thoughts...there was a person nearby, a person with a very particular set of emotions, almost familiar but perhaps not quite. It could’ve just been someone he’d met in passing a long time ago, but yet…Jibeom looked around, trying his absolute best to pinpoint this presence. At the corner of his eye, Jaehyun seemed to freeze up, something he often did when he had a vision.

 

“Jaeseok?”

 

* * *

 

 

In the wee hours of the morning, there were the typical sounds that Sungyoon had taught himself to tune out. The household’s crackling hearth fire, footsteps outside their windows, the faint buzzing of flies and skittering of mice from within their neighbors’ homes. Ew, by the way. It was relatively quiet this morning, what with none of the Daemons stopping by and Jaeseok having already left for his morning errands— however, there was also one sound that Sungyoon had taught himself to always listen to. Daeyeol’s heartbeat; quiet, barely there, yet it inexplicably filled his entire world.

 

Then, suddenly, the noise stopped. That most definitely meant…

 

“Boo!”

 

Sungyoon jumped as Daeyeol suddenly materialized next to him, grabbing onto his shoulders while he heard himself let out an embarrassingly loud exclamation of surprise. When he turned to face Daeyeol, the elder was wearing a shit-eating grin on his face. He and Bomin were probably the only people alive who could sneak up on Sungyoon, but, unlike the kid, he chose to abuse the hell out of this ability.

 

“Why are you like this,” Sungyoon deadpanned.

 

Daeyeol chuckled back, hands on his shoulders shifting to wrap him in a tight embrace. “Love you too, Yoonie.”

 

They just stayed still like that for a moment, simply enjoying each others’ presence. Every person had a certain scent, unique to only them, and Sungyoon had learned over time how to recognize his loved ones by their scent and heartbeat alone. Daeyeol’s scent was a constant variable in his life, mingling with the smell of Jaeseok’s favorite stews and the saline scent of the sea- warm, familiar, always there. Things were always shifting, always changing, but that remained.

 

“Hey,” Sungyoon suddenly said. “Do you think the kids are safe?”

 

Daeyeol seemed to think about that for a moment, pursing his lips and walking over to the hearth.

 

“I trust them,” he replied carefully. “Of course, I’m worried about them… but they’re all smart kids. They’ll stay out of trouble.”

 

From outside, Sungyoon heard something topple over on the street. Sounds like someone dropped a basket of fish.

 

“Jibeom...he was in the palace when it fell, right? But when you went to look for him...there wasn’t a trace.” He felt himself begin to panic, vaguely aware of Daeyeol slinging an arm over his shoulder to offer comfort.

 

“Tomorrow, I’ll have enough energy to teleport back to the capital,” Daeyeol said firmly. “We’ll find him. I don’t think he’s gone. He can’t be.”

 

Ever since the Capital had fallen to a strange force nobody understood, news seemed to travel at a snail's pace across the empire. According to Daeyeol, the citizens of the Capital didn’t really know what was going on, but several residents of the palace have simply disappeared without a trace. Most notably, the crown prince. More disturbing rumors involved accounts of people being... _disintegrated_ by the new malevolent ruler, leaving behind only ash. Because of this, Sungyoon feared the worst.

 

“I hope Donghyun doesn’t try to play hero again,” he fretted. “Even for him, It’ll be much too dangerous….whatever  _this_ is.”

 

Daeyeol hummed. “I told him and Bomin to stay together. I think they both know better now.” He pulled out a chair at the table, sitting down with a tired huff.

 

“I wonder if Joochan’s returned yet.” Sungyoon glanced out the open wooden shutters, keen eyes catching sight of a hummingbird flitting across the rooftops of a cathedral. Tales about the Golden Minstrel have somewhat flatlined throughout the past several years, stories of the immortal boy with a voice that could grow crops and heal wounds. However, recent re-emergences of these tales lead Sungyoon to hope that Joochan had come back.

 

“He’d seek out Donghyun and Bomin first,” Daeyeol reasoned. “If he’s really back, we’d find out pretty soon. The three of them aren’t exactly...complacent when you put them together.”

 

Sungyoon smiled at the sudden hopeful shift in tone of their conversation.

 

“They really do get into a lot of trouble, don’t they?” He said fondly, “didn’t some poor fellow get scammed by Jangjun recently?”

 

At that, Daeyeol laughed. “What else is new? That happens every second week.”

 

Lee Jangjun owned a merchant cart that traveled across the empire, accompanied by two powerful mercenaries who protected him from creatures and bandits along the way. He was a Daemon as well, notable for having the power to bend human will, although most people assumed that he was simply very charismatic. The three of them liked to travel, but Sungyoon sometimes wished that Seungmin, Jangjun, and Youngtaek would visit more often than they did. He sat down across from Daeyeol with a sigh, thinking about all these kids scattered across the world, all the people they’d chosen to care about, watch over, protect. Sometimes he wished he could simply step outside and open his ears, immediately know whether or not they were all safe just by doing that. Unfortunately, his powers didn’t work that way, and it frustrated him to no end.

 

“Daeyeol,” he called out, “why the fuck did we choose to adopt all the Daemons in this empire?”

 

* * *

 

 

Bomin wove his way around the buildings, taking great caution as he navigated his way through the city-state, flitting through alleyways and fluttering on rooftops. In this form, bumping into a wall could be detrimental, and falling to the ground could be tragic. Perhaps the shape of a hummingbird was amongst the hardest to maintain, but it was still one of his favorites— as a hummingbird, he can fly, can travel efficiently, but he usually didn’t have to fly high enough to trigger his fear of heights. He was not Daeyeol, so flying was the fastest way to travel from place to place, but it was always a bit of a scary endeavor for him.

 

A few days ago, Bomin had taken on the form of a giant roc to travel across the mountains, and he had to keep reminding himself not to look down. That, he remembered, was also the day the Capital was invaded, an event that wasn’t exactly fun to watch from a distance. He fluttered by the window of a small building— Daeyeol and Sungyoon’s home, close, but not too close. Sungyoon probably spotted him: he spots everything, but he likely wasn’t aware that Bomin even had a hummingbird form.

 

The buzz and bustle of the city gradually lessened as he flew further away, shifting into the form of an eagle to effectively travel across open air, wings and body expanding as he changed shape in the middle of the sky. The face of the earth sprawled hauntingly below him, daring him to lose his grip on the air and fall flat on the ground. As the mountains that Bomin called home drew closer and closer, he pitched to the right to avoid the course of a pright of gryphons passing by. There was still no sign of Donghyun.

 

After Donghyun dared Bomin to obtain the form of a dragon, sending him off on a Sisyphean journey to impress him, the most powerful Daemon of their time had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. Bomin searched the land and the skies, the cities and every square centimeter of the sprawling countryside, yet he was nowhere to be found. He worried for him. Donghyun definitely had the ability to fight off trouble, but he didn’t exactly have the rationale to stay out of it. And apparently, Bomin himself didn’t have the rationale to resist a dare from him.

 

Daeyeol was going to kill him when he found out.

 

When a familiar wagon pulled by horses came upon the ground below, Bomin dramatically dove to the ground and shifted, finally, back into human form. The horses screeched to a halt in front of him, rearing up and causing about half of the goods to tumble off the wagon. The rider blinked, and his escorts were taken aback. Necessary? Not really. Fun? Definitely.

 

“Jangjun, Youngtaek, Seungmin,” Bomin greeted, shaking off the remnants of the feeling of feathers and hollow bones. Being a bird had felt light and free, and his human form felt much too clunky and limited in comparison.

 

“It’s been a while.”

 

Youngtaek didn’t take long to recover from the scare, immediately bursting into a fit of laughter. Seungmin, by contrast, appeared to be quite annoyed, immediately running to the back of the cart and picking up all the cargo at once with his superhuman strength.

 

Jangjun grinned from ear to ear. “Bomin. Glad to see you haven’t changed.”

 

“You haven’t, either.” Bomin nodded at the cart. “Still scamming people, I see?”

 

“Scamming? What do you mean?” Jangjun replied innocently, just as Seungmin re-emerged from the back of the wagon, idly tossing a sack of wares behind him which landing perfectly on the storage area of the cart.

 

“Don’t lie to the kid, Jangjun,” he said gingerly. “You know what you’ve been doing.”

 

To that, Jangjun jumped off the wagon and ruffled Seungmin’s hair.

 

“Scamming is fun, but gold can’t buy you happiness.” he laughed, turning back to face Bomin. “Don’t be like me, Bomin. I’m a bad role model,”

 

Bomin huffed. “Like you needed to tell me that.”

 

Youngtaek leaned back against the wagon with a smirk, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“Aww, looks like our Bominnie is all grown up,” he teased, a little bit patronizing. Bomin attempted to retort back, but Jangjun interrupted him before he had a chance to speak:

 

“-We met Joochan at the Post. He’s looking for you.”

 

“He’s back?” Bomin asked, to which Seungmin nodded.

 

The Post was an important economic trading hub, a city-state located along the fringes of the empire, located opposite to the Port. Even by flight, it would take him at least a day’s worth of travel to reach. A part of him missed Joochan dearly, however, so that was definitely a journey worth undertaking.

 

“I see.” He paused for a moment, eyeing the provisions they’d brought along for their journey. “What about Donghyun? Have you guys seen him?”

 

Youngtaek pursed his lips, and Jangjun shook his head.

 

“Sorry, Bomminie. We kind of thought he’d be with you, actually,” Jangjun said, genuinely apologetic.

 

Bomin sighed, worry bubbling up to his throat all over again. He could ask Joochan— it was doubtful that he knew about Donghyun’s whereabouts, but there was a chance that he might be able to better understand his actions.

 

“Alright. Thank you.”

 

With that, he bid the three of them goodbye, shifting into the form of a roc and taking to the endless skies once again— though not before swiftly swooping at the wagon and stealing a sack full of Jangjun’s wares. As he flew away on swift wings, Bomin thought he heard Jangjun scream furiously at him to come back, Youngtaek laughing at his misfortune. While his form often shifted and time always progressed, there were some things that truly never changed.

 

* * *

 

 

Jaehyun remembered Jaeseok. How could he forget? Park Jaeseok was tall, charming, and kind, a Daemon ambassador to the Capital hailing from the Post. During his time at the palace, he’d served as a quasi-advisor to Jaehyun and the Emperor, as well as being the first person Jaehyun had ever informed about his status as a Daemon. They were only a few years apart in age, but he’d always admired Jaeseok for his achievements. Years ago, he had to leave his post in the Capital to help fend off external pressure against his hometown from foreign invaders.

 

Now, the darkness he sensed in Jaeseok’s future was anything but familiar. The one time he brushed past him in one of the royal corridors, he saw only relative happiness. Times changed, he supposed.

 

“Jibeom! And...Your Highness?” Jaeseok greeted, a huge smile reaching his eyes. “How have you been?”

 

Jaehyun shifted uncomfortably. It should be a happy moment, Jibeom’s eyes were shining, but there was no doubt that the telepath had picked up on at least some of his bleak mood. He forced a smile.

 

“Titles are arbitrary. Outside of the Capital, I’m simply a commoner,” Jaehyun reached out, offering a hand. “Nice to meet you, Jaeseok.”

 

When Jaeseok took his hand, a thousand possible futures crossed his mind. To his relief, not all of them were bleak; in fact, many of them were very good futures, varying in the same way that Jibeom’s timelines did, though Jaehyun thought that there was still caution to be had.

 

“Jaeseok, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?” Jibeom asked, “we thought you went back to the Post.” His question contained a note of accusation, though his expression seemed to rather point towards curiosity.

 

Jaeseok looked over at the horizon, eyes unfocused.

 

“I did, for a while. But I moved in with Daeyeol and Sungyoon a few weeks ago, when the Capital…fell. It feels safer here, you know? The Post is a bit too...close for comfort.” He said with a sigh.

 

Jaehyun nodded. He understood more than anyone else the need to distance himself from the Capital as much as possible, especially during a time where apocalypse loomed so close over the empire. A now familiar twinge of guilt jabbed at his stomach, reminding him that he was the root cause of the empire’s predicament. After the prophecy of death and destruction had fulfilled itself, Jaehyun had begun to receive very few visions, save for his usual ability to glimpse at short-term consequences and personal fortunes. For now, all they could really do was to keep going, move forward, and not lose hope.

 

He took a deep breath, turning towards Jaeseok.

 

“We’re looking for Sungyoon and Daeyeol. Can you lead us to them?”


	3. joochan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the plot actually progresses somewhat

Joochan was but walking down the street, casually strolling along the busy sidewalks of the city-state, mingling with the mercantile citizens of the Post when he spotted an eagle perched on top of a market stall. He stopped to look up, curious, took a moment to carefully observe the bird as it preened itself. The market stall was completely empty and seemingly abandoned, save for a full sack of wares haphazardly laid next to it. That was the first suspicious detail; even if the sack were stuffed to the brim with useless and broken things, there was not a single merchant who would leave their wares unattended in _this_ economy. See, usually, he would have paid these things little to no mind, but it was an eagle. Just. In the middle of a busy street, chilling a mere few feet from ground level. It did not seem to care about whoever might be watching or judging it. Joochan aspired to be that eagle.

 

All of a sudden, the eagle stopped preening, ostensibly noticing that it was being stared at. It opted to glare back at him with piercing eyes— a challenge. That was the second suspicious detail; any lesser eagle (or, any eagle with sense) would have felt intimidated and flown away, would have chosen to avoid any semblance of conflict. So, to conclude, this either happened to be a very stupid and courageous bird, or—

 

“Bomin?” Joochan called out with a squint. Hearing this, the eagle nearly fell off its perch, had to flutter its wings frantically to regain balance. Yep. Definitely Bomin.

 

Then, its wings contorted into arms, torso expanded to the size of a human’s, feathers disappeared to reveal flesh. Before long, the bird perched upon the market stall became a boy sitting upon it with his legs leisurely dangling past the roof. Joochan was vaguely aware of how, for just a moment, people around them stopped to gawk, to observe for a moment before moving on. Bomin flashed his signature gummy smile.

 

“How’d you know it was me?” He asked breezily.

 

Joochan laughed. “Bominnie, you were just sitting there. Eagles don’t do that. You’re a terrible eagle.”

 

“You don’t _know_ that!” Bomin retorted, “you don’t know what eagles do! You’ve never actually been in an eagle’s skin! But me, I have. _Check_ mate.” He puffed his chest emphatically as he said that, highlighting his point with triumph.

 

“But...You….That’s...” Joochan paused. “Nevermind. Do you need help getting down from there?”

 

“Please.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You were looking for me?” Bomin asked, ripping apart a piece of his bread.

 

Joochan took a sip of cider, then nodded. “Yeah. I was hoping that Jangjun would get to you.”

 

At this point, it was relatively late into the afternoon. The tavern probably wasn’t as busy as it would have been during peak hours, but it was busy nevertheless. About half the seats were filled, people chatted and conversed in such a volume that added a comforting, medium-low hum to the building’s atmosphere. In one corner, a bard played a bouncy diddy on his lyre, singing along in an upbeat and fun tone. Good voice, too little breath support.

 

Bomin tipped his head. “Then. Why’d you just stay here instead of- you know- actually searching for me?”   


“Too much work,” Joochan shrugged.  “You can get places much faster than I can. But that's besides the point. Let’s talk business." He paused for dramatic effect. "I know where Donghyun is.”

 

Bomin suddenly stopped chewing, straightened his back, eyes wide and alert. A small chunk of food fell from his mouth and onto his tray.

 

“Dohnheeung?” He mumbled through a mouthful of bread. Joochan opted to interpret that as “Donghyun,” so he nodded.

 

“You heard right. Dohnheeung. He’s gonna do something dangerous, I can feel it.” Then, he leaned in close, whispered into Bomin’s ear, feeling all cool about how dramatic he probably looked. “I know where he is, but I’m gonna need your help with this.”

 

“Is whispering really necessary here?” Bomin whispered back.

 

“Yes. Definitely,” Joochan replied solemnly, suppressing a giggle. “Basically, I need backup. Donghyun’s going to the Capital, so-”

 

Bomin slammed his fist against the table. Half the people in the tavern turned around to look at him. Actually, some of them probably recognized him as the boy sitting on top of the market stall earlier. They were probably beginning to look really, really strange to the townspeople.

 

“He’s _what?_ ”

 

Joochan remained unbothered. “The Capital, Bominnie. Anyway—”

 

“But that’s dangerous!” Bomin cried. “Even for him, he’s gonna get himself—”

 

“Exactly. That’s why we’re going to find him and drag his ass back to Daeyeol and Sungyoon. He’ll be safe there.”

 

Bomin frowned, eyebrows knitting cutely. “So you think we can just take the strongest Daemon alive and...Drag him across the continent? I dunno, seems a bit far fetched.”

 

“Just a little bit,” Joochan agreed. “For the record, that’s the _second_ strongest Daemon alive. You’re forgetting me.”

 

“Of course,” Bomin mumbled, rolling his eyes. “It’s far fetched, but I’m in. Where do we start?”

 

* * *

 

 

Joochan knew how much Bomin hated flying, but that was only a small part of why he made him do this. The large part is that, of course, flying was the fastest mode of transportation available to them. It was a bit of a shame- Joochan rather liked flying, liked feeling the wind in his hair, the freedom drifting in the air, towns of dollhouses passing below. Unfortunately, Bomin’s roc form was a bit on the small side when one compared it to other specimens of these giant birds. Joochan found that he had to hold on tightly to his feathers as to avoid slipping off and tumbling to the ground, and that probably hurt. A lot. Bomin’s never going to let him hear the end of this after they land. The Post wasn’t so far from the Capital. The once-proud city appeared on the horizon not long after they’ve taken off, standing gloomily upon its usual vantage point, a large grey cloud looming over it. Worry nibbled at the edges of Joochan’s mind. He didn’t know what exactly happened here, but he had an inkling of sorts. God forbid the inkling be true.

 

“Bomin, land next to that dead tree over there,” Joochan yelled, voice nearly drowned out by the wind. “We’ll sneak into the city.”

 

Bomin made no sound of affirmation, but his downwards pitch made it clear that he’d understood. The ground came closer below them, almost too quickly, and they met it with a bit of a crash. When they’ve landed, Joochan found that he was holding on to dear life. Bomin squawked with indignation.

 

Joochan sheepishly climbed off him, carefully stepping off his left wing. The very cross bird-Bomin, in turn, disappeared to reveal a very cross human-Bomin.

 

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

 

Bomin huffed. “This plan of yours better be amazing.

 

“I don’t really have a plan,” Joochan admitted. “But I promise it’s amazing!”

 

“Joochan, I swear-”

 

“You’re too young to swear,” Joochan muttered idly, turning towards the dead tree next to them. He concentrated for a moment and, with a flourish, rolled back the tree’s time, restored its life to a condition where it could grow, thrive. Soon enough, leaves and flowers bloomed on its branches, another piece of greenery dotted the otherwise barren field. He took a step back, regarding his own work with a sort of satisfaction.

 

Bomin blinked. “I thought you couldn’t revive the dead.” He touched one of the leaves, looking up at the tree with awe.

 

“It wasn’t dead. It had a bit of fight in it yet. That’s why I gave it another chance.” Joochan wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, smiled at Bomin.

 

“Let’s go now, shall we? Donghyun needs us, whether he knows it or not.”

 

\---

 

The Capital now was a far different place from when Joochan last visited. Before, it had been bustling, bright, and beautiful. Now, driftwood blew across empty streets, the occasional rat skittered between alleyways, crows hopped from rooftop to rooftop in search of carrion, not a single kind soul could be spotted roaming the vicinity. The ground was covered with a rather peculiar layer of dust. Before, it had been alive. Now, it seemed dead. He shivered. Whatever happened to this place, this busy central hub, this beacon of a city?

 

“Be careful,” Joochan warned Bomin. “There could be...guards. She’s vigilant.”

 

Bomin stopped, confused. “She?”

 

Joochan cursed himself internally. “Nevermind. It’s. Not important. Just...Stay safe.”

 

He thanked his lucky stars when Bomin simply let it go, though not without first a suspicious, side-eyed glare to his direction. From a distance, the cloud above the capital had simply looked like a cloud. But now that they were directly underneath, Joochan saw the way the cloud seemed to swirl into darkness above him, like some giant celestial rabbit had burrowed its way into the sky. Weird.

 

They investigated for a bit, scoured every corner of the neighborhood to no avail. At least, until Bomin waved him over to observe a short line of footprints in a patch of mud within a chunk of upturned cobblestone.

 

“Definitely fresh,” Joochan confirmed. “We can’t prove it’s Donghyun, but...I don’t think it could be anyone else, at this point. He might have made it to the Palace already.”

 

“I hope he hasn’t,” Bomin said, biting his lip.

 

“Me too.” Thus, they walked onwards, nearing the grandiloquent silhouette that was the Palace. From here, Joochan could make out an army gathered in the distance, rallying by the gates of the fortress. When he’d known her, she did have the ability to control an army...although not to this scale. Maybe it wasn’t her. Just maybe.

 

* * *

 

 

They had a bit of a clearer view from the edge of the hill, hidden behind a small fishmonger’s shack, the first building beyond the Palace. The army definitely wasn’t acting of their own accord- they were still, almost mindless, as if only existing to await orders. There were divisions of foot soldiers dressed in Capital garb, units of cavalry with horses just as demented and lifeless as their riders, even prights of gryphons circling the area. Although, most curiously of all, two dragons slept at the center of the formation. One was the size of an elephant, the other the size of a horse. Joochan turned his head to look beside him. Bomin’s eyes were practically _sparkling._

 

“Can you turn into something small?” He asked him. “Something that can easily sneak into, like, a window or something. Anything works.”

 

Bomin nodded. “A fly wouldn’t seem suspicious. I’ve got this. What do I do once I’m inside?”

 

Joochan thought for a moment. “Wait. I’m sure this palace has an aqueduct, a tunnel or something,” he pondered, “else Donghyun wouldn’t have made it in. I’ll find it, meet you inside. Meanwhile, you look for signs. You might find him if you’re lucky.”

 

“How do you know he made it in? He could be...You know…” Bomin trailed off, kneading at his tunic.

 

“He isn’t. Just trust me. I’ll see you there- deal?”

 

Bomin gulped. “Deal.”

 

Joochan turned his back to leave, before suddenly turning back to issue a warning.

 

“Do _not_ take any unnecessary risks, Bomin.”

 

But Bomin was already gone at this point. Instead, a tiny black dot buzzed past his ear, circled the edges of the army before swiftly flying out of sight. Joochan felt something slither over his grave, creep at the edges of his consciousness.

 

It took a bit of circling, a bit of sneaking before he could find the entrance to the said tunnel, the entrance buried beneath a web of ancient roots. Of course, whoever the current occupant of the Palace was, she couldn’t have had enough time to familiarize herself with all the secret passages and doorways of the place. As well, this passage was designed for Daemons- telekinetics like Donghyun, in fact; though it would have been a challenge for Donghyun to pry apart the roots, would have been a bit of a puzzle for him. Joochan smiled to himself. It was easy for _him._ With a rather dramatic wave of his hand, he rolled back the roots’ time, aged them back until they were but sprouts in the ground. The tendrils slowly thinned out, receded until the entrance to the passage was exposed to the air.

 

When Joochan crawled inside, he did not forget to reseal the entrance, regrow the vines until there was nothing but darkness behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

Joochan didn’t like to use his power on animals, on humans- living, breathing creatures. Sometimes, it was for good. There was many a time when he aged back an old grandmother or aged back flesh tissues to heal a wound. He has aged himself back so many times that he usually never even remembered how old he was—perhaps the closest any human could ever get to immortality. That was how he earned his place as a folk hero, the Golden Minstrel, the ageless boy who performed miracles on anyone who asked. But there was definitely something cruel, something unnatural about making use of this ability no matter what he did, what he used it for. As well, he had the ability to age things forward, but there was little use for that besides...killing things.

 

It was a strange power.

 

The passage was dark. That was a given. Donghyun would have had an easy time getting through, would have conjured a bit of firelight to illuminate the path before him, but Joochan did not have such an advantage. He supposed it was payback for being able to open the entrance so easily.

 

As quietly as he possibly could, Joochan trudged along, feeling his way around the tunnels, detecting faint semblances of shadows passing along the walls. His eyes have adjusted a bit to the darkness, silhouettes and outlines have slowly begun to appear. As he walked further, he felt his foot step into a puddle on the ground. Although his boots would have been far from damaged by a bit of water, they were nice boots. He wanted to keep them nice.

 

An eternity passed before light appeared ahead, highlighting the cobblestone and dirt embedded within the walls, if only slightly. As Joochan drew closer, he saw that the light came from a tiny crack through a small door. The door, curiously enough, was left ajar.

 

It wasn’t like Donghyun to leave things open like this. Weird.

 

Joochan opened the door carefully, stepped into the light. The Palace was brighter than the tunnels, of course, but it felt just as desolate, if not more. He’d appeared to have popped up somewhere around the east wing of the building, near the ballroom but far from the front gate. If Bomin was smart, he would have stayed away from the front gate as well. The place was completely quiet, completely still; at least, until suddenly a four-legged, sharp-clawed, winged imp came barreling towards Joochan from the end of the corridor, screaming bloody murder. He screamed back in a perfectly tuned, well-exercised falsetto of terror.

 

Panicked, he held both hands in front of his face, concentrating on finding any possible way to avert this crisis. Sure enough, the screaming stopped in an instant. When he lowered his hands and looked in front of him once more, he saw that the imp was now shriveled, limp. Aged past its breaking point.

 

Joochan shivered. It was a hostile creature, yes, but to die by his power, to live through nigh a hundred years in an instant...That was a terrible way to go. Not so far into the distance, more imp screams echoed across the corridors. He ran.

 

Joochan willed himself to not look back, tried to focus on getting away, but another imp lunged at him from the end of the hallway, causing him to skitter to a halt.

 

Trapped.

 

He was just about to call up another surge of his power, about to attack one more time before the imp suddenly stopped in front of him, frozen in midair. He turned around. The other one froze as well, snarling and clawing at the air as if being held back by some invisible force.

 

“Donghyun?” Joochan called out. Surely enough, he sheepishly peeked his head over a wall.

 

“Hey,” Donghyun greeted. “It’s been a while.”

 

Donghyun looked a lot taller now, perhaps even a bit taller than Joochan. His hair was overgrown and tangled, his clothes were all but tattered, but he still looked good. Happy. He walked closer, stopped next to one of the seething imps. With a wry smirk and a snap of his fingers, he set the creature on fire, burning it until there was nothing but ashes on the ground.

 

“Still a show-off, I see,” teased Joochan, stepping forward to grasp Donghyun’s hand. “It’s good to see you.”

 

They hugged an awkward hug, a gesture made even more awkward by the fact that the other imp was still watching them, still held hostage by Donghyun’s telekinetic grip. It still felt right somehow, felt right to have him in his arms once again.  


“Why are you here, Jooch?” Donghyun mumbled into Joochan’s ear, “it’s dangerous.”

 

Joochan nodded pointedly at the imp. “Funny. I was about to say the same to you.” He pulled away from their embrace, reached out to bat the creature out the air. It immediately fell to the ground with a sickening squeak.

 

And, at that moment, something rumbled outside. Then a roar. Joochan froze, alert, then looked outside. One of the dragons, the elephant-sized one, raised its head to the sky and bellowed a thundering warcry. The army below stirred into action. Everything made a lot more sense when he spotted a figure on the ground next to the dragon, human for just a moment before swiftly shifting into what looked like a tiny bird.

 

“I _told_ that kid to stay out of trouble-” Joochan seethed, “I _told_ him-”

 

He stomped back and forth across the corridor, cursing to himself. “Donghyun, we need to get out of here. I’m sorry. Whatever you were trying to do- it’s. It’s not safe.”

 

Donghyun frowned. “What.”

 

“Bomin. He’ll get away just fine. He’s good at that. But we can’t stay. They’ll search for us.”

 

And search they did. A chorus of shouts rang from upstairs, accompanied by a collective deafening soundtrack of gryphon screeches and imp screams. Joochan grabbed Donghyun’s hand and began to run, started towards the entrance of the secret passage. To his surprise, Donghyun obliged without any fight. The corridor was large, but still too narrow to fit an army- Donghyun helpfully summoned a wall of flames to buy them time, to give them a bit of a lead.

 

Joochan practically ripped open the door to the tunnels, slamming it shut as soon as Donghyun entered. They sprinted into the darkness, letting the indignant sound of the throng behind them slowly drown out as they ran further and further away.

 

* * *

 

 

Joochan and Donghyun didn’t stop when they burst through the ground, left the tunnels, kept running until they were safely outside city limits, until they reached the not-so-dead-anymore tree. There, Bomin waited, pacing apprehensively and shaking a little.

 

“Look, I know what you’re going to say-” he began defensively.

 

Joochan huffed. “Of course you do. You know what you did.”

 

Bomin raises his hands in frustration. “I mean, at least we got Donghyun, right? That's what matters, right?”

 

“That's not the _point,_ Bomin!” Joochan growled back. “Dear god, you never get the point.”

 

“Um,” Donghyun interrupted. “Mind telling me what’s going on here?”

 

Joochan said “Bomin fucked up” at the exact same time as Bomin said “Joochan’s overreacting,” which probably wasn't helpful.

 

“Okay,” Joochan declared with a deep breath. “Bomin, you alerted the army. They're gonna mobilize soon, even sooner now that they know about us. You think whoever’s on the throne right now is satisfied with just taking over the Capital? No.”

 

He stalked towards the tree, then turned back to face Bomin. “They'll come for the Post. The Port. Even the Monument. They won't stop until the whole Empire belongs to them.” _And it's all because of you_ was left unsaid, but rather obvious.

 

Joochan knew why Bomin took such a stupid, unnecessary risk. The boy had a long-standing feud with Donghyun, a rivalry of sorts that all started with but a single line: “ _bet you can't turn into a dragon._ ” Dragons were rare, few and far within the boundaries of the Empire. They were a bit like Daemons- powerful enough to remain unchallenged, to be left alone, to stay unbothered, yet scattered enough to not pose any sort of a threat towards the people or the Throne. However, enough mass panic was often mongered against them for them to be feared and sometimes hated by the general populace.

 

Though, Joochan supposed he was being a bit unfair to the kid. After all, the “scattered” part of the equation could change soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!!!guess which trash fire of an author finally updated after two months!!!  
> working title of this chapter was "cassandra but with a bit more bojoo and a lot more quips"


	4. youngtaek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! finally working on this bitch again. sorry for leaving it to rot for so long ^^ i still won't really have a steady update schedule from here on out but rest assured, it hasn't been abandoned!

Jangjun grinned sheepishly, mouth stretched as wide as it could go, teeth flashing and dimple deep in his left cheek. His hands were in the air, eyes following the mercenaries as they slowly walked circles around him and Youngtaek. 

 

“Guys, guys. Let’s not get so heated. We can find a compromise, righ-” 

 

The leader of the mercenaries edged closer to Jangjun with a snarl, pressing the very tip of his sabre against his throat. 

 

“None of your sweet talk, snake.” The leader lifted his sabre, tipping Jangjun’s chin upward slightly. Jangjun visibly gulped.  “Now, tell me. Are you Lee Jangjun?” 

 

“The one and only,” he said meekly. 

 

The mercenaries began to mutter apprehensively among themselves. Youngtaek closed his eyes and focused. 

 

“Sangyeon, they want them dead,” said one of them. 

 

“Not  _ them _ . Just the snake,”  _ Sangyeon _ replied coolly. He nodded at Youngtaek. “Pointy-ears over here can come with us.” 

 

At this time, Jangjun turned his head over to look at him. 

 

_ When’s Seungmin coming back?  _

 

_ Soon _ , Youngtaek mouthed back. The very fact that he could say it meant that it was true. 

 

“Haknyeon, will you do the honors?” 

 

From the group of mercenaries, one stepped forward. Youngtaek stiffened, eyed him cautiously, and he only smirked at him in response. 

 

“So sorry we had to meet again like this, Youngtaek,” Haknyeon said breezily, brandishing his sword. “But it’s been awhile. I missed you.” 

 

“Likewise,” Youngtaek gritted out. He was still focusing, still trying his best to summon all the willpower he had within himself. It was life or death now. Life or death. 

 

As Haknyeon made his way towards Jangjun, apparently taking his sweet time, Youngtaek thought he noticed Jangjun take a step to the side, but that image quickly disappeared. The corners of his mouth attempted to lift into a smile. He quickly suppressed it. 

 

“Sorry we have to do your friend like this,” Sangyeon said, suddenly behind him. Youngtaek jumped. “It’s for a contract. You understand.” 

 

“Right,” Youngtaek replied, feeling a bit queasy. He watched as Haknyeon pulled his arm back, poising his blade to strike Jangjun in the gut. “Right.” 

 

A ripple went through the thin fabric of reality. Thankfully, none of the mercenaries noticed. 

 

The sword ran Jangjun right through. He fell to his knees with a cry, grasping feebly at the blade in front of him, making his hands sticky with his own blood. He gasped once, like a fish floundering on shore, then fell silent, went limp. Haknyeon waited one second before sliding his sword out of his gut. 

 

Jangjun’s body slumped over onto the ground. 

 

From the corner of his eye, Youngtaek noticed a figure on horseback riding in from the distance.

 

_ Seungmin. _

 

“Come on, Youngtaek.” Sangyeon flicked his head over to where the rest of the mercenaries were watching. “We’ll get you a horse in the next town. For now-”

 

Youngtaek smiled. “No need. There’s one coming right now.” 

 

And as soon as Seungmin came within striking distance, Youngtaek let the illusion collapse into reality. Jangjun’s body disappeared from the ground. A mere two steps away, still standing with hands up in surrender, the real Jangjun appeared with the widest grin on his face. Sneaking up on the confused mercenaries, Seungmin jumped off his horse and immediately decked an oblivious Sangyeon over the head. With their leader down, the rest of them scattered, frantically drawing their weapons and closing into a defensive formation.

 

“My knight in shining armor,” Youngtaek cooed, picking a sword up from the ground and lifting it just in time to parry a blow from Haknyeon. 

 

Seungmin snorted as he punched a mercenary in his ribs and left him reeling on the ground. “I thought your illusion was real. It scared the shit out of me.” 

 

“Well, if you didn’t, it wouldn’t have been a really good illusion,” Youngtaek reasoned. 

 

He bashed the hilt of his sword against Haknyeon’s head, who immediately fell to the ground, effectively unconscious. 

 

“I suppose.” Seungmin turned around and smiled his signature canine smile. “You did well, Taek.” 

 

From off to the right, a longsword thrust at Youngtaek, aimed directly at his sternum. He jumped out of the way just in time, but the edge of the blade managed to nick his side. Smoke rose from his bleeding flesh. He cringed, but lifted his sword and summoned the strength to knock his attacker down with the bunt of his blade. 

 

Youngtaek scanned the area and found Seungmin in the midst of the fight. They positioned themselves back to back. With his superhuman strength and reflexes, Seungmin took the mercenaries down in threes, knocking one down and hitting the other two with well-timed kicks, swings, and punches. Before long, all of their attackers were rendered either incapacitated or unconscious. 

 

Youngtaek took Seungmin’s hand and ran over to where Jangjun was hiding. Jangjun greeted them by enveloping the both of them in a warm hug. 

 

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Seungmin said fondly, burying himself into him. 

 

“Me too,” Jangjun replied. “Gotta admit, watching myself die was. Existentially terrifying. Taek did a wack job.” 

 

Youngtaek laughed, but winced when that disturbed his still-sizzling wound. Seungmin looked at him and frowned. 

 

“Is that...?”

 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Youngtaek said, reaching down to touch it. “It’s steel, not iron. It’s not as ba- Ow!” 

 

Jangjun batted his hand away. “Don’t do that. It’ll make it worse.” 

 

“There’s iron in steel, you know.” Seungmin shook his head, half in disappointment and half in concern. “It still burns you. Taek, I thought you’d  _ know  _ this. You’re like, what, a hundred years old?” 

 

Youngtaek stepped back. “Excuse me? I’m only seventy-three.”

 

“You haven’t aged well, then,” Jangjun snickered, and Youngtaek smacked his shoulder in response. 

 

Seungmin took off his linen vest and tied it around Youngtaek’s waist. Youngtaek cringed a bit at the contact but tried his best not to stay still. His kind never had to worry about infection, but iron wounds didn’t heal. Not naturally. 

 

“I need Joochan,” Youngtaek said. “He’s the only one who can fix this.”

 

“Would’ve done us better had this happened a week ago,” Seungmin said grimly, adjusting the makeshift cast. “Who knows where the hell Joochan went.”

 

And that was true. When the three of them met Joochan at the Post, it was the first time any of them had seen him in damn near a couple of years. There was a very real possibility that he was outside the Empire as of now, disappearing once again after briefly popping in to check up on Bomin and Donghyun. A strange one, that he is. 

 

“It’s fine. I can wait. This won’t kill me or anything.” 

 

They left the area while the mercenaries were still winded and weak, Seungmin leading his horse by the bridle, Youngtaek leaning on Seungmin’s shoulder, Jangjun with an arm over Youngtaek as they walked. A few minutes passed in comfortable silence. A gentle breeze blew over the moorlands. Currently, they were in the middle of nowhere, stopped somewhere within the wide grassland territories between the Post and the Monument. The nearest town was a couple days’ ride away, but not even road signs could be found in the wilderness around them. 

 

“Seungmin, please don’t tell me you lost the cart. That thing’s our entire livelihood,” Jangjun groaned. 

 

Seungmin shook his head. “I left it a ways away. Had to make sure bandits couldn’t find it.” 

 

Soon enough, the cart came into sight. There weren’t many good places to hide a merchant cart in an open plain, but there were a few large, lonely trees scattered throughout the biome. The merchant cart was stowed in the lower branches of a large cottonwood. When Youngtaek spotted it, he had to laugh. Truly, only Bae Seungmin could accomplish such a feat. 

 

“Mimi, did you just fucking toss the thing into a tree?”

 

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I put it there.”

 

“I wouldn’t have thought you could reach that high,” Jangjun taunted, which provoked from him a dirty glare and a huff.

 

They stood around for a few moments. 

 

“So,” Youngtaek said tentatively, “how the hell are we gonna get it down from there?” 

 

* * *

 

Youngtaek hummed as he poked at a snail in the dirt. He could hardly see it. However, in the light of dusk, he could tell that the snail was small; and through the fire’s fleeting light, he could make out that it had a striped helix shell. He watched the snail’s slimy body stretch impossibly as it trudged forward slowly on the grass. The air smelled like woodsmoke, the firewood in the campfire cracked as it was swallowed by tongues of flame. 

 

The cart suffered minor scratches from being stowed up in a tree, but it was otherwise alright. They’ve walked all day, trying to put as much distance between them and the mercenaries as humanly possible, but the horses needed to rest, needed to drink. Thus, they’ve set camp next to a small, flowing stream. Starting a fire in an open grassland was ill-advised and risky, but Youngtaek hid the smoke trail in a thin cloud of illusion.

 

“Hey,” Seungmin said, sitting down next to him. “What’cha doing?”

 

“Poking a snail,” Youngtaek said idly, continuing to poke at the snail.

 

Seungmin lifted an eyebrow. “Why?” The fire flared up a bit, then. Sparks flew, and light kissed his hair, highlighting the edges of his face. 

 

For a moment, Youngtaek didn’t reply, and a pregnant silence hung between them. 

 

“It’s just cool, you know?” Youngtaek said, finally. “Look. I push the thing out of its path, but it recovers quickly, and keeps going anyway.” He did so, shoving the snail hard at its side, and the snail hardly seemed to notice. “It’s so cool. I want to be like him.” 

 

“You’re so weird, Taek.” 

 

“Thank you. I try.” 

 

With a deep sigh, Seungmin leaned his head against Youngtaek’s shoulder and laced their fingers together. Together, they watched the snail carry on with its little snail life, surrounded by the fire’s cracking and the night’s creeping embrace. 

 

“Is the snake asleep?” Youngtaek asked, squeezing Seungmin’s hand. 

 

“Mm. He hit the dirt as soon as we set camp,” Seungmin replied. 

 

Jangjun has been a traveling merchant for a good five years now, but Seungmin and Youngtaek have only been his escorts for two. It was a wonder how Jangjun managed to survive at all, let alone for so long, without the two of them by his side. The man got himself into so much shit that he might as well have lived in a latrine. 

 

Youngtaek met Seungmin at the Monument while he was looking for his people. After he ran away to the Post almost half a century earlier, there was news that the Fae have since moved away from the human Empire. He’d desperately wished that it wasn’t true, wished for a chance to say goodbye, but alas. As for Seungmin. Well. To the people of the Monument, he was a freak, stigmatized and cast away to the very fringes of society. Sure, he could use his abilities to essentially get whatever he wanted, but that meant nothing when everyone he knew already saw him as something of a monster. As two outcasts, Seungmin and Youngtaek became fast friends, and they entered the mercenary business together. They promised whoever hired their services that they were beyond men, and they very quickly grew a reputation for being basically infallible as escorts and chaperones.

 

And when Jangjun came into town, battered and bruised and asking for the two of them, specifically, promising a cut of all his profits for as long as they followed him, they gladly joined him. It wasn’t like the two of them had much better to do. 

 

And they took to Jangjun well. He was fun, witty, and something of an outcast just like them. He caused trouble, made mistakes, created shenanigans, but that hardly mattered. After all, what else was he supposed to do with his life? Daemons were rarely bothered, people rarely gave them trouble, but that also often meant that they had no real place in this world. 

 

But maybe, just maybe, Youngtaek, Jangjun, and Seungmin belonged right here, by each other’s side. 

 

At some point, Seungmin fell asleep on Youngtaek’s shoulder. Youngtaek smiled, closed his eyes, and eventually dozed off as well. 

* * *

 

 

“Alright, loverboys, game plans,” Jangjun shouted, shaking Seungmin and Youngtaek awake. 

 

Youngtaek groaned loudly. His dreary eyes struggled to open against the morning light. “L-loverboys?” 

 

It was a quiet morning, save for Jangjun’s. Well. Jangjun-ness. The wren’s song echoed faintly across the plain, a bit of smoke still rose from the smoldering bonfire, (Youngtaek’s illusion had worn off. It was fine. The mercenaries likely didn’t keep chasing looking for them through the night.) the sun was beginning to light up the world, and Seungmin still leaned against Youngtaek, groggily and rather adorably attempting to wake himself up. 

 

“What year is it?” Seungmin murmured, lifting his head up. He tried to stretch his arms but hit Youngtaek instead. Thankfully, Seungmin was awake enough to have something of a handle on his strength, because if not, Youngtaek’s head would have been mush by now.

 

“This year,” Jangjun said helpfully. 

 

Youngtaek stood up and dusted off his trousers. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the light, his mind was starting to adjust to the day. Suddenly, the wound at his side gave out another wave of pain, and it took him all he could manage to not howl out in agony. 

 

“Taek, you good?” Seungmin asked blearily, standing up if only to put a steadying hand on Youngtaek’s shoulder. 

 

“Yeah,” Youngtaek gasped. “It’s just. Yeah. It’s gone now.” 

 

Jangjun nodded at him. “We need to get him to Jooch, and fast.”

 

Seungmin walked over to the cart to go pet his horse. The animal whinnied, sounding a bit impatient, so he fed it a parsnip from their food stores. “Problem is, where do we go?” 

 

At that, Jangjun shrugged. “I don’t know. If you guys were Joochan, where would you have gone?”

 

Youngtaek thought for a moment. 

 

“He told Bomin to meet him at the Post, right?” 

 

“The Post…” Seungmin frowned. “I mean, I don’t know if he’ll still be there, but it seems like a logical place to check.” 

 

* * *

 

So they readied their horses and packed up their things, began to ride eastwards following the morning sun. Jangjun sat in the middle of the wagon, steering the horses as he always did, and Seungmin and Youngtaek sat on either side of him. The Post was a good distance away, but not so far that they’d take more than a couple of days. The road to it was surrounded by mostly grassland, but a few forests and streams popped up along the way. 

 

After a couple of hours of travel, they came across an inn. Although seemingly situated in the middle of nowhere, it turned out to be something of a hotspot for travelers, mercenaries, and wandering bards. As soon as they walked in, Jangjun asked the innkeeper, a gruff-looking woman who appeared to be a bit older than Seungmin and Jangjun, for a warm meal, using the sweetest and smoothest tone that he could muster. He must’ve peppered a bit of Daemon magic in his voice, too, because the innkeeper was happy to give them three bowls of stew and bread rolls at no cost at all. 

 

“You’ve got no morals, hyung,” Youngtaek said while munching on his bread. 

 

Jangjun only laughed. “You know it, hun.” 

 

Seungmin finished his meal first, and Jangjun shortly followed. Youngtaek wanted to savor the stew as much as he possibly could. After all, when will they ever have a chance to taste warm food and meat again?

 

After they left the inn, the rest of the journey took approximately a day and a half. They stopped once to stay the night in a small village. The local lord offered them custody; after a bit of persuasion, of course. And a few hours into the morning of the next day, the sprawling skyline of the Post began to come into sight. 

 

No matter how many times Youngtaek’s seen it, the Post never really lost its charm. To the east, the city flattened into an enormous market district, and he swore that he could make out the shapes of wandering populace from even such a high vantage point. To the west, the manors of the city’s many noble houses towered over the rest of the metropolis, standing as tall and proud as those who inhabited them. At the center, the Court of Commerce and the Imperial Embassy rivaled one another in height and grandeur, mirroring the way in which the Post’s mercantile aristocrats and the Imperial magistrates would constantly wrestle and squabble over who gets control over various types of trade, and, by proxy, the taxes and tariffs that entailed. 

 

It was a windy day. The wind blew at their backs as if beckoning them towards the city. Youngtaek had spent a good chunk of his childhood here, with nobody but Seungmin at his side, having left his past and people behind him. In many ways, the city felt like home to him, the only home he’s ever had.

 

“This is going to be a long, tough search,” Seungmin said, and Youngtaek hummed his agreement. 

 

They walked into the city, leaving their cart and horses with a few guards at the gate. Duke Park, ever the opportunist, had taken the Capital’s fall and the Imperial bureaucracy’s crash as a chance to replace the Imperial militia with his clansmen, effectively seizing control of the place while simultaneously convincing the people that they were ensuring their safety. 

 

“Shall we split up?” Jangjun asked, adjusting his hood. “We’ll cover more ground.”

 

Seungmin shook his head. “Too many people here don’t like you. We can’t risk you running into any of them without protection.” 

 

Youngtaek tried not to grimace as his wound sent another bout of pain through his body. “T-the east markets. Let’s go there first. Joochan always spent his money on the strangest little things.” 

 

As they walked across the Post, guards dressed in the blues of House Park were a common sight. However, there were also guards dressed in red, in green, in yellow, in grey. People carried on with their lives, walking down the streets with buckets and baskets, looking out from balconies, sitting and chatting and drinking outdoors. The city’s grid layout made key locations easy to find. The markets were busy, no doubt about that, but that was what Youngtaek liked the most about the place. It felt so alive, so free. 

 

There was still no sign of Joochan, however. 

 

“I’m tired,” Youngtaek said, gripping his side. 

 

Jangjun looked at him, concerned. “There’s a bench. Let’s take a break.”

 

Youngtaek sank down, breathing heavily. It wasn’t much of a bench. More of a soapbox, if anything, but it sufficed. A snail crawled on the ground in front of him, navigating carefully between the cracks of the cobblestone path. 

 

Seungmin sat down next to him, but frowned when he spotted the snail. 

 

“Taek, did you bring that from all the way back there?” 

 

Youngtaek shook his head. “No. This is a different snail. Look at its shell design.” 

 

That snail had something of a striped pattern, while this one had more of something resembling a leopard’s rosette. It was a bit larger, too, being approximately the width of Youngtaek’s thumbnail instead of merely the tip of his little finger.

 

“It’s cute,” Jangjun commented, holding out a hand to pick it up. 

 

Suddenly, the snail began to shake, began to convulse, causing Jangjun to step back in shock. Its head swung around and began to get bigger, its body trembled and began to grow.

 

Everyone in the markets either shut themselves in or ran away. Youngtaek kept watching, spellbound. When it became approximately the size of a cat, its face and body began to contort into that of a person; and then it kept growing. 

 

“Urgh,” Bomin complained, rubbing his arms. “I feel so  _ slimy _ .”

 

“I’ve always wanted to be a snail,” Youngtaek said in awe. “How was it?” 

 

“Awful, awful, awful,  _ awful _ .” Bomin ran up to Jangjun and clung to him. Seungmin stepped back, as if Bomin were still covered in that slime, as if afraid of getting snail slime on himself, but Jangjun just laughed and patted Bomin’s back. “It’s even worse than being a bird. And that’s saying something.” 

 

Seungmin smiled. “It’s good to see you here, Bomin.” Then he paused. “Say, did you end up finding Joochan?”

 

Bomin let go of Jangjun, nodding vigorously. “He’s with Donghyun right now. We’re staying in the Tipsy Djinn. Wanna go see them?” 

 

Jangjun, Seungmin, and Youngtaek all exchanged a glance. 

 

_ Donghyun? _

 

“Yes  _ please _ ,” Youngtaek told him, and Bomin took his hand and dragged him over to the very edge of the marketplace with Seungmin and Jangjun in tow.

 

* * *

 

The Tipsy Djinn wasn’t the busiest inn in the city, however, it definitely had its share of business. Youngtaek’s been here enough times that the innkeeper and a number of regulars knew him by face and voice, despite it having been several years since his last visit. At one of the far tables, a lord from House Park drank and played dice with a few of his guardsmen. At the barstools, peasants laughed and raised their tankards. 

 

The innkeeper nodded and gave Youngtaek one of his rare smiles as he walked in. He smiled back, still being dragged by a very enthusiastic Bomin. Jangjun kept looking around, waving at anyone who would bat an eyelash at him, while Seungmin walked by his side and tried his best to convince him to lie low. 

 

And Bomin lead them upstairs, up to the lodging area of the building. 

 

“Okay, now you’re definitely cheating.” 

 

Donghyun’s voice was as unmistakable as it always was, here mixed with a note of childlike petulance and jaded exasperation. Youngtaek felt the corners of his lips rise.

 

Bomin knocked on the door. “Are you two playing nice in there?”

 

It was Joochan who answered the door, all pouty face and ruffled hair. 

 

“We’re fine, Bominnie. I mean, we  _ were  _ playing cards, but Donghyun won’t stop complai- Oh, is that you, Taek?” His face broke into a huge grin. “Hi!” 

 

“Hello,” Youngtaek greeted, following Bomin as he stepped into the room. At this time, Jangjun and Seungmin caught up to them, taking loud, rumbling steps as they climbed up the stairs. 

 

“Hyung,” Donghyun whined. “Joochan keeps talking me into showing my cards! That’s cheating, isn’t it?” 

 

Joochan huffed. “That’s on you, sweets. You could just. Not show me your cards.”

 

“Ah,” Jangjun chimed in. “Look at you, Jooch. Coming for my title?” 

 

“Golden Minstrel who? I’m the snake now,” Joochan joked, putting another card down on the table.

 

“Hong Joochan, I swear. One snap of my fingers and your whole deck will be in flames,” Donghyun seethed. 

 

“Yeah? Well one snap of mine and yours will be dust. Let’s calm down here, edgelord.” 

 

As it turned out, Donghyun ended up losing that game, but his seething was rendered relatively passive when Seungmin offered to play him in the next round. Meanwhile, Bomin and Jangjun left the room and headed back to the main floor of the inn, likely to get some food and chat with the locals, laughing and talking on their way down.

 

Joochan eyed Youngtaek from head to toe, then frowned. 

 

“Are you alright, Taek? You seemed a bit.” He paused. “Limpy, today.”

 

Youngtaek shook his head. “That’s what we came here for, actually. We were looking for you.” 

 

He lifted his tunic to reveal the bandages around his waist. At the first inn they had stopped at along the way, Seungmin and Jangjun gathered up some medical supplies to clean and cover his wound in an effort to prevent as much bleeding as they could. It worked, to an extent, but it did almost nothing to stop the pain.

 

Joochan knitted his eyebrows. “Iron?”

 

“Steel, actually.” Youngtaek began to peel off the bandages, which have since become bloodstained and generally gross. The wound itself had grown huge, gaping, as if the iron was eating away at him from the inside.

 

“Same thing. There’s iron in steel.” Then, Joochan sighed. 

 

“I genuinely don’t know how you’re still alive. Seriously, what if something like this happens to you again, and I’m-” He took a deep breath. “And I’m not around to help? And I’m not on the continent, or something like that?” 

 

“Well. Better to keep you around, then.” Youngtaek shot him a pained smile. “Old friend.” 

 

Joochan rolled his eyes but smiled back.

 

“Fine,  _ old friend _ , I’ll fix this. Stay still.” 

 

As the hole at his side closed over, as Joochan aged the tissues back to their former state, Youngtaek let out a breath he’s been holding. When he touched his side again, everything was fine-- there was no pain, no agony.

 

“You know,” Joochan said. “I’m kinda glad you guys came here.” 

 

Youngtaek raised an eyebrow. “No duh. We’re pretty amazing.”

 

From downstairs, someone screamed. Probably Jangjun. Who knew what was going on down there.

 

Joochan chuckled. “No-- I mean, yes, but there’s something else. See, I’ve been writing to one of our friends at the Port.” 

 

Youngtaek propped himself up on a table and listened, pointy ears pricked. “Jaeseok?”

 

Joochan nodded. “The crown prince got out. He’s with him. Thinks we can take back the Capital if we got all the Daemons together.” 

 

Youngtaek laughed. “No way. Imagine all eight of you in one room. That’d be chaos.” 

 

“Ten,” Joochan corrected. Youngtaek squinted and began to count on his fingers. 

 

“I’m not a Daemon, though?” 

 

“Not you. The crown prince, he’s a soothsayer. And this guy named Jibeom. He’s a telepath.” Joochan held out a hand. “But we need you, as well. You’re more powerful than most living things out there.” 

 

Youngtaek took it, lacing their fingers together. 

 

“I’m down. Let’s go out there and kick her butt.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yes. i'm alive. again, so sorry for leaving this thing for so long. uhh i hope you enjoyed this chapter even though nothing really happened and even i'm not sure where this plot is going.  
> made a bunch of minor edits to the previous chapters. some details are changed but there's nothing really significant tbh  
> the tbz cameo was sort of a heat-of-the-moment thing. dw they all made it out alive  
> the tipsy djinn was a play on genie, yes. also djinn has the word inn in it and i thought that was funny.  
> youngtaek's a faerie so he's allergic to iron  
> and yeah! if you want to talk to me about the fic, golcha, or whatever, i'm on twitter @goldemess. for now, thanks for reading :D as always please consider dropping a kudos and/or a comment that means a lot to me lol


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